Impossibility
by MarshmallowPiggs
Summary: This is the story of a girl who helped to bring down Better Living Industries. A tale full of loss and hardship. It is also a story about injecting color into an otherwise dull world, and the people who help you along the way. A Fabulous Killjoy story.


**Hey guys, so this is my first attempt at writing any kind of Killjoy fanfiction. I do not own anything, except for my OC. Hope you enjoy this!**

* * *

The pain came in waves. One moment, the pain would be crashing down on her from all angles and it was difficult to breathe. The next moment, it would retreat and she was left in a temporary state of peace. She didn't know how long she went between cycles of pain, if it was days, hours, or seconds. None of it mattered. Time was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the sound of the boots. Once his footfalls retreated, she knew that it was safe to peer out of black, swollen eyes into the abnormally bright white cell. Only then could she ignore the pain and curl up into a tiny ball. Only then could she allow the tears to fall, staining her cheeks and collecting on the ground until she fell asleep.

* * *

Time passed. She wasn't sure how long. When she regained consciousness, one of the guards was prodding her with the tip of his steel-toed boot. She opened her eyes as the guard placed her meal in front of her. It was standard fare at the Better Living Industries facility – some sort of unidentifiable white gruel with a slice of crusty bread and dirty water. The smell of it made her nauseated and she promptly threw up the contents of her stomach (which wasn't much) onto the immaculately polished shoes of the guard. That had earned her a swift kick in the side. The guard then left her to lay in her own vomit for who knows how long. Eventually, she worked up enough strength to get up into a half-sitting position and she began to pick at her food. By that time, a member of the janitorial staff had come and cleaned up her mess.

As she finished her daily food allotment, she heard footsteps. _His _footsteps. Panic immediately flooded her body and her heart thumped in her chest at an impossibly fast pace and her breathing grew shallow. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead and neck. She clenched her eyes shut, sure that she was going to be met with some sort of blow.

When she opened her eyes though, standing in front of her was not he, but a guard instead. The guard had short brown/blond hair and light brown eyes. She thought she had once known someone like that, but that was a long time ago. The guard pulled her out of her hazy memory by snapping his fingers at her.

"I said, get up," he commanded gruffly.

The girl simply stared at him, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed.

When she made no effort to move, the guard grabbed her by the arm and roughly pulled her up. A small gasp of pain tried to force its way out of her mouth, but she quickly swallowed it back down. If there was one thing that she would never do, it was that she would never show anyone that she felt anything. She never wanted to give them that sort of satisfaction.

"Come on," the guard said as he led her out of the cell.

They walked down a narrow hallway that was the same sterile color as the cell. The only sound came from the guard's shoes, a steady rhythm, and Lizzie's bare feet as she tried to keep up. After passing through multiple hallways, they stopped in front of a room that was labeled "Therapy". Lizzie shivered. She knew that whatever went on behind that door, it wasn't "therapy". The guard unlocked the door and led her in. Lizzie was strapped into a chair and the guard retreated.

Shortly thereafter, a short, balding man with wiry glasses and an equally svelte frame came in. Lizzie fought against the restraints. She knew that whatever was going to happen to her, it would not be good. The man produced a syringe from his lab coat and filled it with an unknown liquid. Lizzie's mouth went dry at the sight of the needle. He walked towards her and Lizzie tried to make herself as small as possible, but it was useless with the arm and leg restraints in place.

"Now, now, number 002843-396, why must you struggle? You should be honored that you have been chosen to participate in this experiment. Not many people have had this privilege," the man said with a sick smile.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her voice thick with thirst.

"Just relax. It will all be over soon," the man said as her turned her neck to the side. His gloved hand was cool against her cheek. Then he jabbed the needle into her neck.

Lizzie gasped in pain as he filled her veins with the unknown chemical. Then, the nightmare began. Her world began to spin and her eyelids felt heavy. Her heartbeat roared in her ears and everything sounded like she was underwater.

Soon, her body began to twitch. It started innocently enough, with her fingers tapping out an irregular rhythm on the chair arm. Then, it evolved and she began convulsing. Her arms and legs flailed wildly against the restraints as her back arched at an unnatural angle. She tried to scream out, but her tongue felt heavy and useless in her mouth. Eventually, her eyes rolled back in her head as black edges blurred her vision. The last thing that she heard before succumbing to the black abyss was the voice in her ear. _His_ voice.

"Sleep tight, my dear," he said.

Then everything went black.


End file.
